Silence
by christiep
Summary: Edward has heard voices ever since the day his parents died. In a stroke of luck, he is given the opportunity of a new family and life in Forks. When he meets Bella Swan, he gets the one thing he's been wishing for most- silence. Can they survive his demons?
1. Chapter 1

**Unwell**

**A/N: I'm not so naïve to think this hasn't been done before, but I haven't seen it and the idea captured my attention, so here it is. Italics generally represent 'thoughts'.**

_Edward's POV_

Padded walls were entirely unnecessary.

Honestly. People find out you hear voices and they assume you're going to attempt suicide. Or turn into some kind of serial killer psychopath.

In reality, the voices never did anything as interesting as try to persuade me to take a handful of pills, slit my wrists, or hack up people with an axe. The voices' blabbering were mostly composed of mundane, annoying, trivial comments. Admittedly, it was strange, but completely harmless. But they just didn't understand that.

'They' being the 'nice men in the white coats'. Inconveniently, the good old doctors were under the impression I was having a psychotic break.

Thus the windowless, padded white room I was sitting in.

The pillowed box had been my home for the past couple of days. Though I didn't believe I was insane before I'd been thrown in here, I was definitely boarding the train to crazy town now. The dull, isolating blankness was maddening. Maybe it helped real insane people, but I didn't see how the utter desolateness could possibly inspire any sort of mental clarity.

My only entertainment was the ghosting of shadows along the white vinyl, created from the flickering of one of the overhead fluorescent light bulbs. Of course, I wasn't caged in here twenty-four hours a day. Occasionally an unpleasant, sour-faced orderly would stop by to temporarily free me.

I was quite taken with calling him Burly. I think the name speaks for itself.

Anyway, he graciously escorted me down the hallway for sessions with my case's psychiatrist, Dr. Hudson. After my first session, not long after my intake, they had even decided it would be ok to let me eat with the other patients. Joy.

But besides the doctor and the mundane cafeteria, the shadows were all I had. Frustratingly, there was one major drawback to the small amount of preoccupation the blinking light bulb provided- it buzzed terribly. The sound was so grating that I had taken to humming sporadically in the past couple of hours. Presently, I was working my way through various classical piano melodies and had just landed on Claire DeLune.

I scoffed to myself as I thought about the ridiculousness of the entire situation. Not only did I hear voices, but I was creepily humming to an empty room. And I was laughing at myself. I was becoming the picture of a mental patient. At least I wasn't rocking back and forth- yet. As if the doctors needed any more reasons to consider putting me on medication. I wouldn't be surprised if there was someone in this god forsaken place serving as Big Brother, observing me through a video monitor to catch any new proof of my unwell state.

Hmmm..maybe I could rock just a _little_. It might be fun to play with their heads and see what the voices said when I saw the docs again.

You see, the voices weren't the type of voices that most people would imagine. They didn't fit into the John Nash, _A Beautiful Mind_ mold. I didn't think the voices were actual people, and I didn't think they were inside my head either. They were in _other _people's heads.

The voices were people's thoughts. The voices told me what other people didn't say out loud.

Ok, so maybe I would have to take back the statement about the voices not coming from actual people. They did, but not from people who didn't exist.

Obviously, I wasn't insane. I wasn't inventing things. I just read people's thoughts.

I couldn't help that, now could I?

I didn't have time to think much longer about my misunderstood ability before a couple of distinct spoken voices punctuated the stillness. I could tell they weren't internal voices. Those sounded different.

These voices were definitely the kind that engaged in quiet but spoken conversation and I recognized both of them; they belonged to Dr. Hudson and my beloved Burly.

My eyes had drifted shut at some point, but they snapped open as the noise registered. I listened intently to determine where the footsteps were coming from. I pulled my head forward, separating it from the spot on the wall I had been leaning against. The vinyl made an odd noise as I came unstuck and the footsteps paused right outside my white-cushioned door, blocking most of the thin line of light that came through the small crack at its base.

Keys jingled, and door swung open into the room, revealing my two guests and a tiny glimpse of the hallway. I wasn't too disappointed that I couldn't get a full look at it- the hallway was just as sterile as the solitary rooms that lined it. White could only capture my attention for so long.

"What a surprise gentleman," I greeted dryly, turning my head toward the door but remaining in my seat on my bed. The orderly looked at me warily as he had every other time I had seen him. _Stupid punk kid… _

Ah- the voices were back. They never did stay away for long when I was around people. That was the only peaceful thing about being in this room; at least the only mental voice I had to deal with was my own.

"To what do I owe the honor?" I questioned. I wasn't just trying to irritate them, though sarcasm permeated by words. I was honestly curious. Even without a clock I knew it wasn't mealtime- if I had to guess it was about two in the afternoon. If it was a therapy session, the doctor wouldn't have come down here. Burly would have just dragged me to the interrogation room- another nice little nickname I had synthesized during my long hours of boredom. It was the moniker I had chosen for the small, stark room I met with Dr. Hudson in. But I didn't think I was headed there- the doctor had never come to my room before. Therefore, I was fully at a loss.

"Edward," Dr. Hudson began in a warning tone. The orderly continued to glower at me, ready to restrain me if necessary. Jesus, these people were all about overreactions. First, I get committed for hearing non-suicidal/homicidal voices. Then they walk on eggshells around me because I happened to get angry that they did so. Yes, I had kicked and screamed and thrown one tiny punch- that didn't mean I was ready to spring on them at any moment.

I sighed, relaxing back against the wall in an attempt to prove my pacifism. At this point I was sincerely resigned to my situation. I was beginning to be willing to do what it took to get out of this stupid box. I hadn't even followed through on my rocking plan.

"Yes doctor?" I replied, employing my most respectful tone. I needed to convince these people I was sane- or at least not a risk to anyone.

The orderly glared at me again. _He's not fooling me…_

Meanwhile, Doctor Hudson's face relaxed. _Maybe isolation has served its purpose._

I fought a smirk at the doctor's internal self-congratulation.

"Edward, I came down here to let you know that you have a visitor. He'd like it if you would come and talk with him for a bit."

My head spun and my plans for a bit of playing-nice were dropped. A visitor? Who could possibly be visiting me? There was no one who would be interested enough to show up here- unless ghosts actually existed, that is.

"Who?" My voice involuntarily hardened around the question, and I jumped to a standing position without thinking.

_Don't even think about trying anything. _I shot a death stare at Burly when I picked up on his thoughts, a perfect match to his. See? Overreaction. I was just caught off guard and he was thinking I was going to whip out a switchblade or something on him. Which there was no chance of me having- I hadn't even packed my own bag, and was just wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Doctor Hudson's face showed none of the signs of concern that his counterpart's did. He wore a calm mask, giving nothing away. "I think he'd rather you just meet him in person. Please, follow me." _Just do what I say Edward…_

I gawked at the doctor's retreating back for a moment. So it was a he? Maybe it was another doctor. Or possibly a social worker.

Burly halted my theorizing, clearing his throat and giving me a pointed look. I rolled my eyes but walked out of the room, aware of his hulking frame's shadow hanging over me. I followed Dr. Hudson's white coat, wondering what in the world this was all about.

Dr. Hudson led me to a part of the hospital floor I hadn't been to in two days. The first shock was passing through the metal door that opened out into the less sterile, more 'homey' section of the ward floor. It was carpeted in industrial gray, but at least everything here wasn't an eye-aching brilliant white. I vaguely recalled seeing the light blue walls and peaceful landscape paintings when I had been forcefully dragged in Tuesday afternoon. That is until someone had stabbed me in the arm with a sedative- after that it all blurred together for a bit and I woke up fuzzy-headed and thinking I had gone color blind.

It was odd to see colors again- almost as odd as passing by the glass-encased desk where patients signed out or willingly signed in. Not that I understood why anyone would ever take that second option. To each their own I suppose.

Unfortunately, we didn't go out the glass door that would have led to the visitor's lobby and the bank of elevators. For the briefest moment I considered making a break for it, but I couldn't stomach the thought of more time sitting in my own personal form of purgatory. With Burly stalking behind me, I'd be back in the room before I could blink- he probably had a fresh needle at the ready.

Thus, with no options I followed the doctor and crossed over into the hallway of conference rooms and doctor's offices. I knew this was where most patients went for therapy and attended group sessions, but I had obviously been deemed too unstable to come to Dr. Hudson's office. Instead, he had come to me- regular protocol for patients 'like me', as he had so gently phrased it.

Yet here I was, with no forewarning or explanations. Burning curiosity at the sudden turn of events was overpowering all of my opportunistic tendencies. I was nearly twitching with anticipation when Dr. Hudson finally stopped at one of the dark wood doors.

He paused for a moment and turned to look at me, his hand resting gently on the golden handle and prolonging my wait.

_Oh, I hope he isn't too much trouble…_

"Don't worry doc, I'll behave myself. Scouts honor," I promised, holding up three fingers on one hand. He offered a slight smile, eyes full of hope and pity. I couldn't help thinking he wouldn't have had anything to pity if he would just let me out of here.

"I hope so, Mr. Masen. For your sake," he forebodingly responded before opening the door and ushering me in ahead of him.

The room was small, but cozy. The walls were a deep green and there were a couple of armchairs and a small couch surrounding a coffee table. Though institutional and formal, they were an improvement on solid white and gleaming silver.

Standing with his back to the door was what I assumed was my visitor. He was no one that I recognized.

His hands were tucked into the pockets of his black slacks and the sleeves of his white button-up were rolled to his elbows. He turned at the sound of our entrance, smiling hesitantly, and I saw that he was rather young. I appraised him for a moment, taking note of his casual dress and stance. If he were a doctor or social worker, his demeanor should have been more formal.

I considered what this meant until Burly interrupted my analysis and poked me in the back, forcing me forward so that he could stuff his gigantic frame into the room.

The visitor's hand instantly shot out in front of him when I was within range. "Hello. My name is Carlisle Cullen. It's nice to meet you."

My brows knit together, but I couldn't deny his friendliness. His ice blue eyes gleamed with genuine enthusiasm, despite the slight wariness and concern seated in them. Tentatively, I offered my own hand, shaking his twice.

"Edward Masen. Why are you here?" I saw no reason to not cut straight to the point. He had to have a point after all.

Dr. Hudson seemingly felt differently and shifted uneasily beside me, but the blond haired man- Carlisle- only chuckled. I wanted to feel indignant that he found my serious question humorous, but his laughter broke the tension of the room.

"Edward," Dr. Hudson cut in, "Dr. Cullen here is to make a proposal for your consideration. Please take a seat."

He gestured to the couch, but I held my ground. He _was_ another doctor- that made some sense. But why did I get to come up here and meet him? Why hadn't he been in the interrogation room like other doctors I had seen?

Carlisle watched me while I studied him until his gaze suddenly broke with mine. He looked to the orderly, then back to Dr. Hudson.

"Dr. Hudson, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with Edward alone. Would that be alright?"

_Idiot_. Burly's voice interrupted my observation of the exchange. He did not approve. Probably assumed Dr. Cullen didn't know what he was getting into.

_I don't know if that's a great idea..._

Dr. Hudson stood debating with himself, eyes narrowed.

_This would work better alone- come on. _Dr. Cullen's internal pleading matched his expression as he stared down the older balding man. Dr. Hudson's eyes flicked to me momentarily, but he made his decision.

"Alright. But we'll be just outside if you…need anything."

Dr. Cullen nodded and watched as Burly and Dr. Hudson exited. Rather than turn his attention to me, he sat down in one of the armchairs, apparently not bothered that I continued to stand just inside the closed door.

"So, Edward- you don't mind if I call you Edward do you?"

I shook my head no. "That is my name."

"Alright. Well, why don't you tell me why you're here?"

I snorted, and went to sit on the couch so I could look him in the face. I leaned forward, raising my eyebrows.

"Don't you already know all about that _Dr._ Cullen?" I asked, emphasizing 'Dr.' "Shouldn't it all be in some file some place?"

He gave me a small smile. "Carlisle please. I'm not here as a doctor, so I only know that you are a committed patient of this hospital's psychiatric ward. All other details are hearsay."

"Carlisle huh? You aren't here as a doctor? Don't you work in this hospital?"

"No, I'm not, though yes, I do. Psychology isn't my specialty. At least not officially."

Now I was more confused than I had been before. What was that supposed to mean- 'not officially?'

"Then what's your 'proposal'?" I asked, putting air quotations around the word Dr. Hudson had used.

"I think I asked you a question first," he pointed out, his voice still kind rather than harsh. For some reason, it made it seem okay to answer him.

I sighed. "Because I hear voices, and apparently that makes me insane."

His face remained calm at my confession. As if people told him they heard voices every day. His lack of a reaction actually earned him a bit of respect in my book, even though I knew he was probably doing it on purpose. I was tired of people flying off the handle when I told them the truth.

"And you don't agree?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because they're real." I sucked in a small breath. That was the first time I had said that aloud, rather than just insisting I wasn't insane. Hearing it myself, maybe I could understand why others tended toward putting me in the crazy column. But Carlisle just nodded, as if my reasoning made perfect sense.

"Why don't you tell me about them?" I paused, eyeing him. Besides my doctors, I had only told my therapist anything about the voices, and it had landed me in here. But Carlisle was taking everything else so well, even if I had no idea what he wanted, so I answered.

"I'm not schizophrenic. The voices are just…they're people's thoughts."

"You can read minds?"

"Yes." He thought about that for a minute, never breaking eye contact.

"What am I thinking?" I sighed. His internal voice had been chattering away, though it had been relatively calm for the past few minutes. I listened intently for a few seconds before answering.

"You find this all very interesting. Even though you aren't sure what to think."

He gave me a dry smile, but it wasn't patronizing as I was accustomed to. He wasn't the first to test me. "Astoundingly accurate. At the very least, you know how to read people."

I ignored the connotation of his second comment, which fit with what the others had said when I had effectively answered the exact same question. I decided I would take the compliment instead. I found myself wanting to like the man who sat in front of me.

"It's your turn. Why are _you_ here?" We had discussed my presence in the mental ward, but all I knew was that this stranger was here with a proposal for me, the accused mentally-unstable teenager. I was intrigued.

The golden-haired man took in a deep breath, preparing himself to answer.

"I was the doctor that treated you and your parents." _So tragic._

Oh. A barrage of images and memories assaulted my mind's eye, replaying the events that haunted my dreams. Me, driving my parent's Lexus after begging for the keys in the parking lot. My father sitting beside me and my mother in the back middle seat. Coursing along the roads on the way home from my piano performance as part of one of Chicago's most esteemed symphonies for young adults. The silence that had permeated the car because my parents and I never seemed to have anything to talk about anymore and we hadn't been able to agree on a radio station. The blinding lights of the delivery truck I hadn't seen because I had been too caught up inside my own head. The sickening crunch as I pulled into the intersection and the truck hit the passenger side of the car, nearly bending our town car in half. The quiet that had descended, everything ending as quickly as it happened. Ambulances and police cruisers arriving, sirens blaring.

As if the sirens were in the room, I was shocked out of my reverie by the mental recollection of the noise. I choked down any more flashbacks, blocking out the much more painful part of that night. My hand flew to the bridge of my nose and I pinched it, attempting to compose myself. When I opened my eyes, Carlisle was still watching me, expression unchanged.

"That doesn't really answer my question," I stated, my voice trembling despite my efforts. I clenched my jaw.

For the first time, Carlisle looked away momentarily. He cleared his throat, looking at the generic painting of colorful sailboats in a sunny harbor. He blinked twice then turned back to look me in the eye.

"You know your father was already gone when he came in- he took the brunt of the collision. But your mother- she fought so hard." _Such a brave woman…_

I wanted to interrupt him- I wanted to make him stop. He was pulling at a wound I was determined to ignore e and his thoughts weren't any better. But I couldn't, because I needed to know what could have possibly made him come to see me. Doctors didn't usually become so interested in their patients after they treated them, did they?

"She should have been dead. She certainly shouldn't have been conscious- there was so much blood loss." He spoke as if a trance, and I was being pulled under with him.

"Instead, she was awake and alert. She made me tell her how you were." I winced. The truck had hit both on the passenger side and further back on the car. As a result, my injuries hadn't been serious, and I couldn't deny the guilt I felt. Other than a concussion from banging my head on the steering wheel and some cuts, I hadn't needed much medical attention.

"I told her you were fine, but she wasn't satisfied. She demanded I take care of you, make sure you came out of everything ok. She made me promise to do everything in my power to ensure your well-being."

He paused, and I assumed he was finished.

"Well, you did your job. I'm alive."

He looked at me with sympathy. _Except you're not ok. _"But you're in a mental institution," he stated, as if his point was obvious.

"That isn't your fault. You're no longer obligated."

"I think I am. She said 'everything in my power.' There are still a few more things in my power."

I narrowed my eyes. What could he possibly mean? He wasn't a psychiatrist. He had already told me that. Besides- I didn't need any more shrinks. I didn't need any shrinks at all.

"What could you possibly do?" I expected him to look away when faced with my blunt question and harsh tone. He didn't. If anything, his gaze became more determined, though cautious and hesitant.

"Edward, my wife and I have created a family by taking in teenagers who didn't have families and needed help. We can welcome you with open arms- provide you with a safe place and anything else you may need. I'm here to offer you a home."

I felt like I had just been punched in the gut. I felt like the air had been forced out of my lungs. That was the last thing I had expected the man to offer.

"You want the crazy orphan boy to come home with you?"

"That is my proposal. Except I thought we had already established that you aren't crazy."

I took a deep breath. It felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest as I considered the possibility. It was just so…unexpected. I couldn't even compose my own thoughts.

"Why would I do that? Come live with a bunch of strangers?"

"For one, it's better than a padded cell."

"I don't think that will last forever," I shot back. Although, secretly, I knew another minute was too long. The thought of white was beginning to make my stomach turn.

He looked contemplative and turned his head slightly to the side. "I suppose not- if you would really rather stay, I could pull some strings to get you out of there tonight. Maybe even get you transferred into a more…pleasant facility. But I can promise my home would be much better than either of those options, or the group home you'll go back to when you are eventually released."

He hit home with that one. My memories of my first two weeks in the local group home after my hospital release were not pleasant. I had no living family after my parents' deaths. They were only children and my only surviving grandparent was in a retirement home, suffering the aftermath of a severe stroke. A judge had decided I should be sent to the home until a foster family could be found.

The group home's food was disgusting, the rooms were worn down, and the kids were messed up. Because it was late July, I couldn't even escape to school. The director was also the one who had forced me into grief counseling. By the transitive property, the group home was the reason I was in this hospital. But Carlisle had said his family was made up of teens without families- the 'Cullen House for Lost Children' didn't sound so much different from a standard group home. Then again, at least he and his wife picked kids willingly. It couldn't be any worse, could it?

"How can you do that? And how soon could I be out of here?" I didn't have anything to lose by learning more. If Carlisle could get me out of here, I was going to take my chances.

"I'm a well respected doctor, and I sort of have a reputation in situations such as these," he said, sheepish. How do you get a reputation for taking in teenage mental patients? Not that I really cared. "We could leave as soon as you get your belongings and the paperwork is signed."

My eyes widened. "Now?"

He grinned at my disbelief. "Absolutely. Is that an acceptance?"

I shrugged, deciding to reign in my excitement until I saw how this all turned out. "Why not?"

**A/N: John Nash is a Nobel-prize winning mathematician who struggled with schizophrenia and overcame it. The movie **_A Beautiful Mind_ **was based on his life, and won an Oscar. It also happens to be my favorite movie. If you haven't seen it, you should. **

**As always, reviews are much appreciated :)**


	2. Chapter 2

I was impressed. Carlisle really must have had some kind of reputation or clout or something. Only thirty minutes had passed since I had given my indifferent acceptance to his proposal, and we had just walked out the doors of the hospital's main lobby.

The sun was still high in the sky, and the mid-summer heat beat down on my face and shoulders. The scorching sensation was a welcome reprieve from the stale, air-conditioned air of the hospital. I felt myself smile in spite of myself. Freedom was so sweet.

I followed Carlisle to the employee parking lot, contemplating how easy it had been in the end. Carlisle had gone to get Dr. Hudson while I sat and waited, and as soon as the paperwork could be filled in and my belongings could be pulled, we had left. Walking through the glass doors I had thought about escaping through just minutes before had been an amazing feeling, particularly enhanced by Burly's scathing thoughts.

Now, I focused on every possible sensory experience I could find, from the smell of the city smog to the feel of hard concrete beneath my sneakers. Since leaving the psychiatric floor, Carlisle hadn't tried to force a conversation. Even once we arrived to where his black BMW was parked in the cool of a parking deck, he only wordlessly unlocked the doors. I threw my small duffel bag of belongings into the back seat and climbed into the passenger seat, suppressing my recently invoked memories of the last time I had been in a similar car. As Carlisle pulled out of the deck, the cool leather and tan interior was too familiar, as were the city streets. A few moments later, I couldn't stand it any longer so I spoke up to create some sort of distraction for myself. Besides, I was going to be living with this man. I needed to know some things.

"So, Carlisle," I began, his first name feeling only slightly strange on my tongue. I was already at ease with him. "Exactly how old are you?"

He laughed before responding. "I'm thirty-two."

Hmmm…I couldn't decide whether that was younger or older than I thought. On the one hand, Carlisle appeared very young. If I hadn't known he was obviously an accomplished doctor, I would have pegged him for his late twenties. On the flip side, he took in stray teenagers. Wasn't thirty-two a bit young to play the parental role to people more than half your age?

Speaking of… "How many kids do you have?"

"My wife and I have four children- two boys and two girls. Their names are Alice, Jasper, Rosalie and Emmett. Alice and Jasper are sixteen, like you. They'll be juniors when school starts in a couple of weeks. Rosalie and Emmett are each seventeen and will be seniors." _I hope you like them- they're each amazing, unique people._

I processed this a moment, including Carlisle's unspoken thoughts. I still wasn't sure how I felt about this living arrangement. I had only agreed because it seemed to be the best- and only- viable option.

"Why do you and your wife do this?" I knew I was giving him the third degree, but he just smiled as the car pulled up to the red light. With his hands still on the wheel, he turned to look at me.

"Several years ago, Esme and I discovered we couldn't have children. Rather than spend inordinate amounts of time and money on fertility treatments that most likely wouldn't work, we decided adoption and foster parenting would be a good fit for us."

"But why teenagers? Don't most people go for little babies from China or Africa?"

He laughed, turning back to the road and pressing the gas as the light changed to green again.

"I don't know about that, but I guess you could say that at first it was an unexpected but convenient fit. Esme and I both have our own pasts, and they are well suited to helping kids your age."

My brows knit together at his explanation in confusion. "What sort of 'pasts?'"

There was a long pause as he contemplated what to say. _How much do I tell him?_ Finally, he spoke.

"I can only tell you my own story, as I respect that Esme's is hers to tell." He glanced in my direction to see that I understood. I nodded, making brief eye contact before he turned back to focus on the road.

"I was an only child. My father was a very religious man- a pastor. When I was young, he was strict but loving. But then my mother died when I was thirteen from breast cancer. I think it broke him. His zeal increased, but he also became overbearing and physically abusive. No matter what I did, it was never good enough, and no one ever suspected a thing of their beloved spiritual leader. But I worked hard, made good grades, and got into a college a couple of hours away with partial scholarships. I made it the rest of the way through on part-time jobs and loans. I never looked back after that. My dad died a few years ago of a heart attack."

"Oh," I said, shocked that the seemingly untroubled and successful man beside me could have endured so much. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Like I said- I think it all happened for a reason. It lets me help others." We sat in silence for the next few minutes, until he flicked on his blinker and sped onto the entrance ramp for the highway.

"Ummm…where do you live anyway?" Why hadn't I thought to ask that before?

"Not far. Just on the fringes of the suburbs. Esme isn't a fan of the city sprawl, and the schools are a little better out there."

I only nodded in reply, unsure of whether or not he saw me, settling my gaze out the window as I watched the skyscrapers transform into factories and then neighborhoods. Before I knew it, we were pulling off onto an exit and turning into small subdivision.

The houses were each unique, and rather than sitting right next to each other, each home was spaced a little further apart. The lawns were all a perfect green, and it was apparent that this was neighborhood was dominated by the upper-middle class.

Finally, Carlisle hit a button on his keychain and the garage door on a large brick colonial style house opened up. He pulled up the slanted drive, parking the BMW. It didn't slip my notice that besides his car there was also a Jeep, a shiny red convertible and a motorcycle inside. Being a doctor apparently paid a lot more than I thought- my parents had been fairly well off, leaving me quite a bit of money in a trust fund, but I had never seen anything like this. .

Carlisle must have seen me gaping around, and apparently felt the need to explain.

"My mother came from old money, and when my father died, I inherited all of it. Esme is an interior designer by trade, but is rather talented at flipping houses. All of that with my salary as a surgeon and…well…"

He trailed off, looking pointedly around us.

"I see."

"Anyway, come on inside. I called ahead, and they're all waiting on you."

At his statement, I balked a little. Carlisle had been cool and all so far, but he was just one person. And I had been caught up in my new found freedom. Suddenly, reality came crashing down on me.

I was about to walk into a room of five complete strangers, guided by one I was just beginning to get to know. I had no way of knowing how much they knew about me. Not to mention I was going to have to put up with hearing all of their voices.

_He's nervous._

"Don't worry Edward. They are all looking forward to meeting you. Except for Esme, all they know is that you needed somewhere to go. What I said about Esme applies to you too, just as it does to my children. Your story is yours to tell or keep to yourself."

Ok. Maybe I could deal with that. So long as I wasn't going to be forced to spill my guts in front of the entire assembly. I nodded my agreement and followed Carlisle up the garage stairs and into the house.

I dropped my bag just inside the hallway at Carlisle's suggestion, and he led me through a hallway into a living room, calling to his wife and kids.

"Esme? Are you all here?"

A petite woman popped her head around a doorframe on the other side of the room, smiling as she looked to see who had arrived. Her head disappeared for a moment, but she was soon slipping out into the room, crossing the distance quickly. She wiped her hands on the apron that was wrapped around her waist. Based on the evidence, she had been busy in what I assumed was the kitchen.

She quickly wrapped her arms around Carlisle's neck, pressing her lips to his for the sweetest of moments. She backed away after her greeting, her hazel eyes dancing as she looked at me. He gaze was warm and friendly, and despite myself I began easing under the radiation of her obviously motherly disposition.

"You must be Edward. I'm Esme, Carlisle's wife." She offered her hand, and her smile was broad and genuine, but I could also see the concern etched in her face. I knew she was entirely aware of my situation- Carlisle had said she was the only other one with all of the information. My appearance probably wasn't helping matters- I was still wearing my ratty sweats, and I hadn't slept much in the past couple of weeks. I could only imagine that I had dark circles under my eyes, and my skin was paler than it should have been at the end of the summer.

_Poor boy- I hope we'll be able to help him._

At the sound of her thoughts, I forced myself into the present. "It's lovely to meet you Esme. Thank you for taking me into your home."

As the words left my mouth, I knew they were sincere. I'd never been so grateful for anything in my life, even if I was worried about what was going to happen. After all, it was hard to be anything but nice to Esme.

"It's nothing dear. I was just finishing dinner- you do like lasagna don't you?"

Before I could answer, a booming voice resounded through the room, coming from the door Carlisle and I had just came through.

"How could anyone not like anything you cook Esme?"

I turned, and took in the sight of a hulking figure walk in the room. For the briefest of moments images of Burly flashed through my mind until I looked at the boy's face.

And he was a boy, despite being larger than life. He may have had the muscles and build of a man, but he grinned like a child, dimples indenting each of his cheeks. His dark brown eyes sparkled with untold mischief, and he bounded to Esme's side with enthusiasm, bending down to kiss her cheek.

She laughed in response to his rhetorical question and, after straightening, he turned to look at me. "Esme's a spectacular cook," he explained. "I'm Emmett, by the way."

"Edward." I supplied, and he appeared to size me up for a moment, but his attention quickly strayed as a blond came down the stairs.

She was absolutely stunning. There was no denying it. She was the kind of beautiful that every woman in the world strived to be, and envied with a burning passion. He golden locks shined in the light, cascading down her back, curling slightly at the ends. Her figure was slim and perfect, and she hardly accented it with anything but a pair of jeans and a simple but clingy red t-shirt. But the moment she hit the landing and came to join our quickly growing group, I knew that I was not attracted to her. Immediately, I noticed the odd mix of insecurity and disdain in her ice blue eyes.

She strode to Emmett's side, resting a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder. The scrutiny of her gaze was burning, and slightly uncomfortable, if not hostile.

"Edward, I'm Rosalie." She introduced herself, apparently having heard my introduction to Emmett. _So he's the new kid…_

"He's here!" a sing-song voice rung out, saving me from thinking of something to say to Rosalie. I was having a hard time thinking with everyone's internal voices chattering inside my head- if I wasn't careful I was going to end up answering someone's thoughts, and I didn't want to have to explain that. Ever if I could help it, and definitely not right now.

The source of the musical lilt soon appeared, prancing down the stairs. She was pulling a blond-haired boy behind her. He seemed resigned to her pull, and I could see the amusement on his face.

"I told you he would come with Carlisle!" she exclaimed, gracefully sliding to a stop in front of me. I had no idea how she so easily halted all of her momentum, but I could only assume she channeled it into her bubbling energy. "Hi! My name is Alice, and this is Jasper." She emphasized the boy by lifting his hand, shaking it side to side a couple of times. I was stunned into silence, overwhelmed by Alice's friendliness. For such a tiny girl, the black-haired thing was a whirlwind.

Jasper offered me his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he drawled, a thick southern accent coating his words. I took his hand after a moment's pause- several scars interrupted its smooth surface. In fact, when I looked at him again, I saw that the scars ran all the way up his right side, from his arm up his neck.

He smirked, seeing the path my eyes had traveled. _They always notice._ He squeezed my hand firmly, then dropped it. I glanced anxiously around the group, their voices resounding in my ears. It was unnerving after being isolated for so long, with so few thoughts around to read. Suddenly I was getting a headache.

Mercifully, Carlisle broke the silence, clearing his throat.

"Well, now that everyone has met, why don't we let Edward get settled in before dinner? Emmett- do you mind showing him to his room? It is beside yours."

"Sure thing doc." He said, stepping in my direction. "You got any stuff?"

"Yeah- it's by the garage door." He gestured for me to lead the way, and the thoughts of everyone else faded away with distance while their voices resumed in hushed tones.

I grabbed my duffel bag and Emmett led me up a set of stairs I hadn't noticed when we came in. We walked in silence, turning to the right when we reached the second floor. We walked past a couple of closed doors before stopping in front of the one on the end on the left.

Emmett twisted the silver knob on the white door and opened it into a medium-sized room with tan walls. The carpet was plush and a darker shade than the walls. In the middle of the room was a full-size bed with a navy comforter and oak frame. Beside it stood a nightstand with a nondescript lamp atop it. There was a dresser and a closet, but besides that, there was little else in the room. I wandered in, setting my bag atop the bed and spinning in a slow circle.

Emmett shuffled by the door, his thoughts centered on what he should say. "Its smaller than the rest of our rooms and sort of empty, but I'm sure Esme will take care of that soon. Besides cooking, she loves to decorate." He laughed a little at the end, as if it were an understatement.

"Carlisle mentioned she was an interior designer." I answered, non-committal. My thoughts were elsewhere.

As much as I didn't want to say why I was here, I was dying to know about everyone else. Including how Rosalie and Emmett and Alice and Jasper each seemed to be together. I may have only seen them for an instant, but it was obvious in their little touches and looks. I mean, obviously, none of them were related, so it wasn't that weird except for the fact they all lived together. I just wanted to verify- I would hate to assume anything.

Unfortunately, I never got a chance to decided which question I wanted answered most, much less the chance to figure out how to ask it in a way that it was most likely to get answered.

Alice barreled in behind Emmet, slipping lithely around him. She was literally bouncing with excitement, and her dark eyes were lit up.

"Esme said that dinner would be ready in about ten minutes, so we should get ready and go downstairs. Are you going to change?" Pointedly, she glanced up and down at my clothing. I looked down at myself as well. I was actually pretty desperate to wear anything but my sweatpants and a t-shirt, though in any other circumstances I would have gladly taken their comfort. I was far past sick of them, having worn the exact same sort of clothes for the past few days. The hospital hadn't allowed anything else due to their ridiculous concerns about me being suicidal. The smell of antiseptic still clung strongly to the clothes, and the association with the small padded room made them unappealing.

Despite all of that, I didn't exactly appreciate Alice's implications.

"Ummm…well, I was thinking about it. But I don't really have much else that's clean." That was actually pretty true- the only pair of jeans with me would be alright, but all my shirts were dirty and wouldn't be much better than what I was wearing. Most of my clothes were still at my parent's apartment in the city, except for what I had packed up to take with me to the group home because I had never gotten around to going back to get the rest. Of those I had packed, they were still at the group home. I hadn't exactly had a chance to pack, as they had forcefully taken me to the hospital. Someone there had packed a bag for me that night, but hadn't sent the rest of my things. Thus, my small amount of possessions.

"Oh. Well I'm sure Jasper won't mind letting you borrow something- you two are about the same size. C'mon," she demanded brightly, dragging me by the arm. She was surprisingly strong, and she caught me off guard, so I followed. Emmett chuckled behind me and shot me an apologetic look, but made no move to help me.

Before I knew it, I was back at the top of the stairs, facing the door directly to the left of the landing. She had me inside the slightly ajar door before I could blink, finally freeing her death grip on my forearm to dart over to the small walk-in closet. I rubbed my arm, wondering if it was possible that her tiny hands could have bruised me.

"Just wait there." She demanded, shooting me a warning look. I shook my head, but followed her orders. I really did want to change.

When she disappeared into the closet muttering something about picking the right color, I took the chance to look around the room we were in.

Though I had shrugged off Emmett's comment about my room being small, I realized what he must have meant. If the rest of the rooms in this place were as big as Jasper's, then I understood the comparison. In the middle of the room was a full bed like mine, but with a dark green spread. There was a large desk off to the side, made of some dark wood. A laptop and a slew of papers were scattered across its surface, and the leather office chair was pulled out as if its occupant had suddenly jumped up without pushing it back. Picturing the earlier scene on the stairs, I imagined I knew the reason why.

On the other side of the room was a massive bookcase, and I wandered over to inspect the titles. There were some novels, ranging from classic to recent bestsellers, but most of them were histories. The rest of the shelves were taken up with row after row of CD's. There was a dresser by the closet on the far wall of the room, and Alice had reappeared while I had been inspecting the room and was pawing through one of the drawers at the moment.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, pulling out a pair of jeans.

"Here," she said, thrusting the jeans and a black dress shirt at me. I had no idea why it had taken her so long to select the two simple items, but I decided not to question.

"Thanks. You're going to fit in great here, you know," she stated knowingly.

I knit my brows together, raising an eyebrow at her. "How would you know that? You just met me."

She grinned, laughing. The sound reminded me of wind chimes. "I know these things Edward. Just like I knew you were going to agree to come and stay with Carlisle. Now go get dressed- dinner will be ready soon."

I had no idea what Alice meant. Somehow her words didn't sound like much of an explanation. But I did just as she said, going back to my room to finally dispose of my hospital-tainted clothes.

As soon as I hit the living room, my mouth began to water. I hadn't realized just how hungry I was until now, with the scent of tomatoes and garlic on the air. Hospital food was crap, and I hadn't been in much of a mood to eat anything the last couple of days anyway. I was ravenous.

Jasper turned the corner into the living room, seemingly coming down the other set of stairs. He offered a small smile, scanning my clothes. I tried to keep my eyes off of his scars.

"Alice got to you, huh?" he asked pleasantly.

"She said you wouldn't mind…" I trailed off, hoping he didn't.

"No worries man. But you should know Alice is a fanatic about clothes and all that girl stuff. She likes to dress any of us who will let her."

I nodded in understanding, just as we rounded the corner into the kitchen.

Esme was just kicking the oven door shut with her foot, setting a large pan on the granite island. She looked up as she sat it down, smiling as we came in the room.

_Looks like he might be settling in ok._

"Go ahead boys. Everyone should be in the dining room. I'll be in just a moment."

Jasper kept walking, cutting through the kitchen to the dining room. There was a long cherry wood table there, surrounded by matching chairs with pearl cushions. The table sat eight, so there was plenty of room. I took a seat in between Jasper and Carlisle, who was seated at the head of the table. Rosalie was directly across from me, with Emmett beside her. I smiled tentatively at them. Emmett grinned back, but Rosalie only regarded me with a blank stare.

There were already glasses at each seat, and I saw that pitchers of water and pink lemonade sat in the middle of the table, along with a large tossed salad and garlic bread. Esme finally came through the door, setting the lasagna on the table and sitting beside Emmet, rather than at the other end of the table. She immediately began passing the lasagna around, and the salad and bread followed. I poured a glass of water and while I waited. An easy conversation about their days began, and I sat quietly after I had gotten a plate. I tried to block out their mental voices, only succeeding slightly. Still, it was more of a hum with only fragments coming through, and that was helpful.

Eventually, Esme broke through my reverie.

"I hope the room was ok Edward. Its just the guest room and I didn't have much time to do anything with it…" She trailed off, looking worried. I snapped out of my own head again, just in time to answer her question without pausing.

"No. Really, it's great. Especially after that white box I was staying in."

The words left my mouth before I could think, and suddenly I realized I had just alluded to the one topic everyone had been dancing around since my arrival. I wasn't just here as a visitor. I was here for a reason- one that I didn't really want to reveal. And I had just given a huge hint.

Everyone else paused for a moment. Jasper shifted beside me, as if he could feel my unease. Alice and Esme each played with the food on their plates, forks scratching against the ceramic. Emmett and Carlisle pretended like nothing out of the ordinary had been said. Rosalie narrowed her eyes and stared me down, pursing her lips in thought.

"And exactly where were you before this?" she asked, her voice carefree and curious.

"Rosalie!" Carlisle exclaimed sharply, giving her a pointed look. Emmett's hand went to her forearm, but she just glanced at it before returning her gaze to me.

"I'm just curious Carlisle. Its no big deal- we all know everything about each other. Why should he get an exception?"

"He's not. You all chose to talk to each other. You know the rules- its his story to tell, and he will if he wants to. Not because you put him on the spot in front of everyone when he's barely even settled in."

She huffed, but her face looked chagrinned.

"Fine. I was just curious. Sorry." Her tone wasn't insincere, but I could tell she still desperately wanted to know. I also knew she was angry Carlisle had called her out.

In my opinion, it served her right. What goes around comes around, right?

The rest of the meal was spent eating in an awkward silence, scraping noises filling the air.

After dinner, Carlisle pulled me aside as the table was cleared.

"You can leave that," he said, gesturing to my plate. "They can get it- I wanted to talk to you about a few things."

I nodded slightly, setting my plate down and following him up the stairs. This time we went to the third floor, and he led me down to the end of the hall. We walked into a large room, and I recognized it was a study.

Bookshelves lined the walls, and they were all nearly filled. A large desk was set off to the right, and a couch with a couple of armchairs were directly across from the door. Carlisle went to take a seat in one of the chairs and I followed, choosing the couch. I was filled with déjà vu of our first discussion earlier this afternoon. Already it was hard to believe it had just been hours before- it could have been several days for all the changes that had suddenly occurred.

"I'm sorry about Rosalie Edward. She has a rough exterior and can be rather difficult."

I shrugged. I didn't particularly like Rosalie- she seemed shallow and self-absorbed. However, given the situation, I figured she might have a reason to be. Not that I thought that excused her behavior- I was not going to be her punching bag.

Instead of saying any of that, I gave Carlisle a watered-down version of my feelings. "I understand. I would want to know too."

And I did want to know about each of them, desperately. I was still so confused about why Carlisle and Esme were helping me- maybe if I knew about the others, I would understand. At the moment, I was grasping for anything that would help me. I was stranded in a sea of uncertainty, and I needed anything I could hold onto.

"Right. Well, don't feel pressured. Anyway, I talked to Alice before dinner. She says you need clothes. I know you don't have much with you, and I wanted to let you know you can anything you need. We have significant resources, and they are yours now."

I blinked at his offer, considering what he was saying. "But I'm just your foster kid."

He cleared his throat, looking at me. "Technically, that is true. But when I offered you a home, I meant a _home_. Esme and I aren't here to replace your parents. However, we do want to help you in every possible way, using the resources we have. That includes financial."

His voice was resolute, and I knew there was no way around his conviction.

"Well, its unnecessary. I have a trust fund. I just need to go by my parent's apartment- it hasn't been sold yet by the lawyer's office handling everything and I still have belongings there I need to get. I have some things at the group home too."

His shoulders eased, and the tension in his face dissipated into an easy smile.

"Alright- I have to be at the hospital tomorrow, but how about Sunday afternoon? We'll drive into the city and get everything."

"Great."

"Okay- but if you need anything."

"Of course."

And like that, the easiness of our conversation was erased again, and Carlisle began shifting in his seat, glancing into the corner where an antique globe sat. There was obviously more to this conversation. The money discussion was apparently supposed to be the easy part. _How do I say this?_

"Carlisle- whatever it is, you can just say it."

He leaned forward, elbows on his slightly spread knees. He looked down before looking back to me.

"This is entirely up to you, and I want you to know that, before I begin. But I want you to let me say everything first, okay?"

I furrowed my brow, concerned by his serious expression. I had seen this look on other adults around me in recent days. It was the "I know what's best for you" look. Usually the people giving it to me didn't know shit. But maybe Carlisle was the exception. If anyone was, it was going to be him. He had already surprised me half a dozen times, and I had only known him for about five hours.

With that thought, I nodded my acquiescence.

"Ok. You know I want to help you- you also know I don't think you're crazy. I do, however, think you are grieving and may be having trouble doing so.

"I think being in Chicago- I'm not sure its helping matters. I think you might be better off somewhere smaller, where everyone isn't going to know what happened to you and life isn't quite so stressful. How would you feel about moving?"

My mouth gaped open. That was not what I had expected. I had expected recommendations of therapists and treatments and other things he thought I needed. He could have said I needed shock treatments and I would have been less surprised.

He saw my expression, and most likely the conflict in my eyes. "Of course, it is up to you. If you don't want to go, we can stay here."

"Why would you do that for me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, for starters, we just met three hours ago. Also, I am your foster kid. I know you're saying you want to give me a home, but we don't know that this is permanent. And leaving your family's home for me would be kind of permanent. I can't let you do that."

"Oh, it wouldn't be our first move." _Or even just the fourth or fifth._ I looked at the doctor skeptically.

"Really Edward. We've moved plenty of times- for work…" He trailed off, but his thoughts didn't _For other reasons… "_Well, lets just say we're due for a move."

He was really giving me an option? Of course, I knew I had options. I could always return to the group home- except they would send me back to the hospital. But Carlisle could get me into a better program, and I still thought he would follow through on his earlier promise. I knew he had meant it when he said he felt he owed something to my mother.

The point was, he was giving me an option that allowed me to stay in his home. And despite Rosalie and the short time I had been here, I really wanted to stay here. It was better than anything I had imagined my life could be like, considering that no other foster family would want a sixteen year old and I would have been stuck in the home until I was eighteen. Two years there sounded like living hell.

But Carlisle was asking me if I _wanted_ to move. He was asking me how I _felt_ about it.

And that was a question I wasn't sure if I could answer. How did I feel about it?

I loved Chicago, but it wasn't my childhood home or anything. My parents had moved here three years before, and before that they hadn't spent very long anywhere. I've never really had a hometown.

Still, I wasn't sure how I felt about leaving. I did have a connection to this city- it was the last place my parents had lived. If I left, it would be like leaving them behind.

On the other hand, staying here wasn't exactly beneficial either and I knew it. I knew that I couldn't grieve forever. I would have to cope. I would have to let go. And I wasn't so sure I'd ever be able to do that here. It wasn't so much the kids at school or the newspaper coverage of the accident that were holding me back. I could transfer to the school the rest of the Cullens went to and no one there would know what happened. News stories fade.

The problem was that everywhere I looked, something reminded me of that night. I couldn't live my life with flashbacks haunting me.

"Where would we go?"

Carlisle scanned my face carefully, measuring his words. I heard him contemplating what my reaction would be.

"Well, we could go wherever you would like. However, I did have a specific place in mind."

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for Carlisle to continue.

"It's a place called Forks. It's in Washington. My grandparents lived there and my family visited a few times a year. It is a very small town, a couple of hours from Seattle and Portland, but I think you could like it there." _It would be a nice break from the city and reminders of the accident…_

I sighed, running a hand roughly through my hair. I didn't know what I thought about small town life. Yet, I knew Carlisle had a point about it being a good place for me. It would be the exact opposite of everything here. Meaning, no more reminders and ghosts of my parents. And fewer voices too.

"We can leave if I hate it?"

"Of course."

"Alright, I'll go."


End file.
